Hunger of the Pine
by Lux Aeterna
Summary: When Quistis crashes near the orphanage in heavy snowfall, Seifer takes it upon himself to rescue her. With all communications down and the weather too dangerous to travel in, the strange pair must sit out the storm together. In such close confines, will romance blossom despite the past?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to Final Fantasy 8, Square or Alt-J. This is just for fun.

 **Chapter One**

 _Sleeplessly embracing_ _  
_ _Yawn yearns into me_ _  
_ _Plenty more tears in the sea_ _  
_ _And so you finally use it_ _  
_ _Bedding with me you see at night_ _  
_ _Your heart wears knight armour_

 _ **~ Hunger of the Pine – Alt-J**_

His day had started typically enough. He rose with the pale light of dawn, swinging long legs from his sleep-dishevelled bed and running a callused hand through similarly sleep-dishevelled hair. It had grown long these last few weeks and was in dire need of a cut. Seifer had dressed warmly against the sea's chill that permeated every nook and cranny of this old house; long johns underneath his trousers, a fleeced jumper over a thermal shirt and thick socks tucked into well-worn brown leather boots that were so overused that they no longer creaked as he walked. He glanced out of the frosted window and took in the starkness of the landscape and the burgeoning weather. Despite the salt of the sea, a thin layer of snow had settled over the steps down to the beach and the small rock garden. It gave the area a faintly magical aura; the snowflakes slowly melting amongst the salt, glittering vainly against the morning sun's weak rays as they filtered pitifully through the snow clouds, as fair and dense as goose feathers. Seifer could appreciate its beauty only a moment before his mind settled on his tasks for the day. The snow and the cold only served to make things more difficult. He had intended to continue his work rebuilding the back wall, but that was not possible with the surrounding damp of melting snow. Seifer sighed, irritated that his good work was interrupted. Any major building work would need to be curtailed until the weather improved.

The house was silent. No footsteps echoed on the bare stone floor but Seifer's heavy tread. Edea was gone for now, travelling around the world with Cid, looking not only for new children to be taken into the orphanage, but also for new buildings in each corner of the world, in every city, to take in parentless children. In the meantime, Seifer was left to attend to the repairs of the current orphanage. It had sustained considerable damage over the years, not only from the war, but from general disuse over the years. When he had arrived here three months ago, browned and lazy from four years of fishing and dozing on Balamb's harbour side, the floor had been coated with dust an inch thick and any room without a door had been veiled in black damp that crept into everything, leaving ruined furniture and a constant musty smell that Seifer hated with a passion.

At Edea's behest, for she hated to see her favourite without a purpose in life, Seifer set about first removing all the damp. He had spent weeks drying out the damp rooms with specially imported heaters from Esthar, before he began steaming off the damaged paint and applying new paint in its place. He had carved doors and fitted them himself. He had swept and polished and cleaned until the skin on his hands started to crack. The inside of the orphanage now looked passable as a home, although it was still miles off from perfection as he imagined it.

Seifer had moved his things into a small room off from the main sleeping area that in the past had been used as some sort of laundry room. Miraculously the room was largely intact when he'd arrived and had only needed to be cleaned and warmed up with a portable heater. Now it housed a decently sized bed for one as tall and broad as he, a small table upon which sat a well-used lamp, and several books he had brought with him to pass the long, lonely hours when it was too dark to work or there was little to do thanks to the weather. Seifer had never been one for reading, preferring the heady thrum of action and more action and action begot from that. He'd surprised himself at how easy he'd found it to slip into a book at the end of a long and arduous day working on the building, slowly sipping at whiskey with hot water to ward away the cold.

A dark evening of relaxation was as far from Seifer's thoughts as it was possible to be right now. Since arriving at the orphanage, he had found being idle unbearable. His years spent loafing around Balamb Harbour seemed as if they had happened to someone else. He missed the bright hot sun and the splash of his lure in the azure waters. He missed the flail of the fish in the water as he caught it. Sometimes he had caught big ones and would sell them to the fishmonger. He missed Raijin and Fujin. He missed them most of all, and thought of them often, missing Raijin's raucous laughter and Fujin's tight, secretive smiles.

When he was busy, it was easy to forget about being lonely.

In truth, Seifer did not miss company as much as he'd expected to when he promised Edea he'd help her. Centra was a stark, bare place. Where there weren't expanses of hard rocky territory, there were dark forests full to the brim of vicious creatures. Even fishing here was a bad idea; the surrounding waters contained all manner of horrors and little in the way of edible fish. Anything beyond what could be grown, made or collected at home – milk, cheese, eggs, herbs – had to be flown in. Sometimes Seifer questioned the logic in building an orphanage in this inhospitable place, but like most difficult questions, he tossed it aside and moved on with his day.

It was half an hour later, after washing and shaving his head, that Seifer sat himself down heavily on a stool in the kitchen, a steaming cup of coffee nestled between his hands. He watched as the vapour curled and danced from the rim of the cup, before dissipating into the air like a faithless ghost. Outside the sea roared and more snow was falling, sticking fast despite the salt. The faint squalls of seagulls could be heard amongst the clamour of the waves. Apart from that, silence. Nothing but silence. His head ached with it. In Balamb it had been so easy to silence the stream of consciousness in his own mind but here… amongst a thousand memories and then ten thousand more, it was not so simple.

He loved it here, loved the smells and the sounds and the feel of stone and wood underneath his hands; loved waking in his bed to the sound of the birds in the field and the gentle flow and recede of the sea.

But this silence… it throbbed inside him like a flaring infection. He stared out the window at the new flurry of snowflakes that blurred the landscape. Nothing to do, nothing to do, nothing to do but think of the past and the future and what was and what could be and what could never be. He swallowed and tried to quell the rising anxiety in his chest.

Suddenly a great sound rang out, louder than any wave and more violent. Seifer recognised it instantly and with a swiftness he had almost forgotten that he possessed, lunged across the room and picked up Hyperion, feeling a cold confidence rise in himself as he gripped the hilt. He ran from the kitchen to the main room and positioned himself near the window. With his old soldier's poise, he leaned just enough to survey what was happening outside. He blinked with shock as he realised that the sound he'd heard was the crash and subsequent explosion of an aircraft. He ran to the door and flung it open, before running full kilter down the path to the crash site.

The craft was burning quickly, with smaller explosions blasting from it every few moments. Seifer noticed that the cockpit was open, showing that whoever had been unfortunate enough to be flying that thing had ejected themselves last minute. Shielding himself from the burning aircraft behind a stone wall, Seifer tried to survey the area from his vantage point, hoping for a glimpse of the pilot.

"Hey!" he yelled. "HEY! Is there anyone out there? Shout out if you need help!"

No response. Seifer gave a grunt, knowing now that he had to search for a potential corpse.

 _I wonder what fun this day will bring,_ he thought cynically.

Still avoiding the fire, he ran hunched over, Hyperion still in hand, to search for the pilot. When he was far enough away from the heat, he stood at his full height and peered around, scanning the surrounding area for signs of a body or a parachute. Thankfully it didn't take long. About a quarter of a mile away, on a grassy hill beyond the field behind the orphanage, there was a flutter of white. A parachute. Seifer felt his stomach clench as he ran as fast as his legs could carry him towards the chute. It fluttered like a surrendering flag in the snow.

As he got closer, he could see a spattering of red in the pure white – blood. Seifer reached the pilot and as carefully but quickly as he could, removed the chute that covered them, revealing a shock of golden hair marred by blood and a delicate form that could only denote a young woman. Seifer blinked back his shock as he realised that it was none other than Quistis lying there.

"Shit," he muttered to himself. He didn't move her, aware that it could do more damage. "Quistis," he said. He touched her face, pushing the hair from it to reveal a gash near her hairline that was weeping blood. "Hey, Quistis!"

Sluggishly she opened her eyes, only dimly aware of the fact she was being spoken to. Seifer breathed a sigh of relief; at least she wasn't unconscious. Most likely she was just in shock.

"Quistis, it's Seifer," he said, using his most strident voice. "You've been in a crash. I need to get you inside. Can you move your arms and legs?"

"I… I don't… I don't…"

"I need to get you up. You'll freeze out here. Now, can you move your neck? Move your neck for me if you can, Quistis."

With what appeared to be a great effort, Quistis turned her head to the left and right, wincing slightly from pain. She moved her legs and seemed to be trying to get up.

"Alright, that's good enough for me," said Seifer.

He unclipped the parachute and lifted her up as if she weighed less than a bag of feathers. By some miracle nothing seemed to be broken – most likely she just had a concussion and some cuts and bruises. Quistis's face was whiter than the landscape, her usually pink lips tinged with blue. She was shaking uncontrollably. Seifer felt a pang of pity for her as he carried her bodily back to the orphanage, snowflakes stinging his eyes.

Once inside, Seifer removed her boots, talking to her gently all the while. Quistis was still shaking terribly, but seemed to be aware of what was happening.

"Seifer," she whispered, her voice juddering with the effort. "What happened?"

"You were in a crash," said Seifer softly as he wrapped a blanket around her, placing her in a chair near the fire he had stoked in the main room. "Your air ship went down. I don't know why. Just breathe. You're alright."

Quistis fixed Seifer with a tearful blue-eyed gaze. Seifer felt that pang of pity again – how unlike Quistis it was to cry. "It's alright," he repeated. "You're just in shock."

She breathed deeply and pulled the blanket tight around herself. "I don't know what happened," she said. "One moment everything was fine, the next…"

"Bet you've never be happier to be ejected from an aircraft, huh?" said Seifer.

Quistis gave him the ghost of a smile before her eyes filled with tears again. She was coming to herself now and brushed the tears away with frustration, the old warrior in her returning.

"How's the craft?" she asked.

Seifer pulled a face. "I've seen more intact dumpster fires."

"Damn it," Quistis muttered.

She flinched as Seifer took a step towards her. "You're bleeding," Seifer said. "You've got a pretty bad cut on your forehead. Let me look."

Quistis was taken aback at the sheer gentleness of Seifer's hands as he moved her hair away from the cut. These were hands that had done such damage in the past, but now he was handling her as if she were made of porcelain. "Is it deep?"

Thankfully the cut was clean and shallow. "It's not too bad," Seifer said. "It's already started to clot, so that's good." He glanced at her and was relieved to see that colour was starting to return to her face. "Does it hurt anywhere else?"

"I have a headache," said Quistis. "And my legs hurt. My neck aches too."

"No doubt from your bumpy landing. Anything else?"

Quistis shook her head and looked at the floor. How strange this situation was.

Seifer continued to stare at her. "What were you doing out there anyway?"

Quistis blinked. "I was bringing you supplies," she said. She registered Seifer's obvious surprise and confusion. "Edea had sent a message to Garden informing us of your plans to help her rebuild the orphanage. She wanted someone to bring you supplies – food as well as building materials. I volunteered." She shrugged. "Everyone else was busy."

"I bet they were," said Seifer, his voice studiously devoid of any inflection. He'd heard on the grapevine about Squall's upcoming wedding to Rinoa. It didn't surprise him that Quistis had wanted to get away from that particular maelstrom. Seifer couldn't imagine an event he'd want to attend less, apart from maybe his own execution.

"Well, thanks," said Seifer, eventually. "Sucks that all that stuff is smouldering in the beyonds though."

Quistis gave a deep sigh. "I can't believe I crashed," she said, a pinch of that old self-loathing leaking into her voice. "All those supplies…"

Seifer inwardly groaned thinking about it. He didn't even want to ask what kinds of delicious food and useful materials had been in that cargo. "You'll have to contact Garden when you're feeling back to normal," he said. "Let them know what happened."

Quistis nodded, her cheeks reddening now, as if embarrassed. If there was one thing he knew about this woman, it was that she passionately hated screwing anything up. Seifer considered saying something to make her feel better, but thought better of it; she'd only find it patronising. He made his way to the sink, filled the kettle and placed it on the hob to boil. What she needed right now was a hot drink to take her mind off the crash and some boiling water to clean that cut.

Once the kettle boiled, Seifer made Quistis a tea and filled a small bowl with boiling water and added in a handful of sea salt. Picking up a clean rag, he dragged a stool to sit opposite Quistis.

"Look at me," he said.

Quistis did as he asked, still shaking slightly. She felt vulnerable and utterly mortified. She prided herself on her skills as a pilot as well as a soldier; to crash for seemingly no reason, losing the entire cargo when she'd _volunteered_ for this… she could barely swallow the drink in front of her, she felt so embarrassed.

Trying to shake away the thought, she looked into Seifer's face as he brought the rag dipped in boiling salt water to her face. His piercing green eyes were slightly narrowed as he went about his task. His large hands were surprisingly gentle as he wiped away the dried blood and cleaned the wound. Quistis could barely believe she was in this situation. She'd planned to drop off the goods, say a quick hello and leave. Seifer wasn't generally her company of choice. Although the war was years ago and the world rebuilt, it was still somewhat awkward. She had no real dislike for the man, but he was a tough, solitary individual. Outside of Matron and those two strange friends of his, his contact with the SeeDs was limited. She'd been impressed and a little taken aback at his decision to help rebuild the orphanage, but considering his attachment to Edea, maybe it wasn't such a shock.

Now she was sat opposite him in the orphanage kitchen, shivering despite the warm woollen blanket he'd wrapped around her shoulders, watching as he tended to her injury. She flushed and looked away from his face. Strange character or not, he had always been a beautiful man; Quistis had never found herself at ease around men who looked like that. They made her feel gawky and awkward and natural charm had never been her strong suit. She wasn't like Rinoa, with her easy charisma, or Selphie, with her unquenchable gift for happiness. No, Quistis had always been different in that respect.

Seifer was pleased with his handiwork. The wound was clean and it looked like Quistis wouldn't need stitches. Her shaking had largely subsided now. He applied a slick of antibacterial gel and a sterile bandage over the cut.

"There," he said, the trace of a smile on his austere features. "How's that?"

Quistis lightly touched the bandage with a delicate pale hand. "Thank you," she said.

"Ah, it's nothing," said Seifer, turning away.

"No, I mean it, Seifer," said Quistis. "Thank you." She fixed him with her icy gaze. "You saved me. If you hadn't helped me, I don't know what I would've done…" She trailed off, flushing red.

"Really," said Seifer. "It's nothing. If I hadn't been there I'm sure you'd have thought of something, once you pulled yourself together. You're not some pussy, I know that much."

Quistis raised an eyebrow, then flinched at the pain it caused in her forehead.

"Well, thanks for that," she said archly. "Not some pussy. You have a way with words, Seifer."

At that Seifer gave a bright bark of a laugh and looked at her, his face transformed by a wide heart-stopping smile. "Don't I though?" he said. "Forever the charmer, huh?"

Quistis found herself smiling back, despite her discomfort. "Sure," she said.

A long moment of strange silence passed between them. Quistis turned away and stared out the window. "It's really coming down heavy out there," she said, concerned.

"Yeah," said Seifer, glaring at the billowing flakes. "All that shit's doing is getting in the way of my work." He sighed. "And until the weather dies down, you're not gonna be able to get a message through to Garden."

"Damn," said Quistis. "How long do you think it'll snow for?"

Seifer pulled a face. "Hard to say, winter's pretty erratic down here, as I'm sure you remember."

She nodded, a faint smile on her face. "I remember us all crowding round the fireplace on nights like this when we were kids. It would get so cold in the bedroom that sometimes we'd all fall asleep here." She trailed off. She looked Seifer in the face. "I guess I'll just have to wait. I'm not in any rush to get back, not really." She thought of Squall and Rinoa's wedding, Selphie's excitement; an endless parade of dresses and table plans and soothing the nervous bride. Quistis was glad Seifer couldn't read her thoughts. No doubt being stuck in Centra with Seifer for a few days would be a welcome respite from home. Maybe once she was back on her feet she could be of some use around here.

"Well, that's a good thing," said Seifer. "Seeing as you ain't got a choice right now." Without warning he placed his hand on her forehead. "You're still a little cold. Drink that tea. I'd put you to bed but I want to see if you have a concussion first."

Quistis felt herself flush underneath his cool palm. How was it possible that someone so thorny and odd could be such an unexpectedly good nurse? Once again, she was glad Seifer wasn't reading her thoughts.

 _Seifer? Putting me to bed? Hyne, now there's an offer I never thought I'd have._ She paused, momentarily baffled at her own thoughts. _Maybe I do have a concussion_ , she concluded.

"Alright," she said, coolness returning as if it had never left. "I'll stay. Seeing as I have no choice."

Seifer grinned at her, the old tone of mockery back in his voice, the arrogance alive in every syllable. "There's the Ice Queen I know," he said. "Feeling better already, huh?"

Quistis smiled thinly at him and turned away to the window, watching the snowflakes fall. She couldn't see the sea from here, only hear it. Feeling suddenly exhausted, Quistis leaned back in the chair, heaved a deep sigh and let herself disappear into the white whirl outside the windowpane.

* * *

It's been ages since I've written anything so I hope you enjoyed. :) Second chapter should be up in a few days, fingers crossed!

~ Lux


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to Final Fantasy 8, Square or Alt-J. This is just for fun.

 **Chapter Two**

 _Sleeplessly embracing  
Butterflies and needles  
Line my seamed-up join  
Encased in case I need it  
In my stomach, for my heart  
Chain mail_

 _ **~ Hunger of the Pine – Alt-J**_

When Quistis woke, the first thing she became aware of was the bright white light streaming through a small window. She had no idea what time it was, but noticed that she was lying in a bed. She blinked back surprise; Seifer must have carried her in here after she'd fallen asleep in the chair. Quistis had no memory of this; she must have slept deeply.

As she moved, she felt an ache ripple through her bones. Her head felt sore. She raised a hand to it and felt the bandage, remembering the crash with a start. Somehow, in the dark recesses of sleep, she had forgotten what had happened. Slowly, wincing at her bruised limbs and aching head, Quistis stood up and looked out of the window. What met her eye was snow, several feet of it, piled high almost up to the windowpane. She was shocked; how long had she been asleep? How could so much snow have fallen overnight? Had she only slept one night? Her head spun and she slumped back down on the bed. Quistis swiftly realised that this must be Seifer's bed and felt her face flush. She was surprised that he had given it up to her and wondered vaguely where he had slept instead.

She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. With weather this extreme there was little chance of being able to contact anyone back in Garden, let alone being able to make it home. All she would be able to do was wait for the snow to melt. Quistis groaned with annoyance. Being trapped in the orphanage for goodness-knows how long was not her idea of a worthwhile use of her time.

She lay there for a few moments longer, savouring the warmth of the blankets and the softness of the pillow underneath her head. Eventually, and with some disgruntledness, she roused herself from the bed, lowering her feet to the cold tiled floor, shuddering against the freezing stone against her skin. She glanced at the chair at the bottom of the bed and saw a fleecy jacket that had been left there and without a second thought pulled it on, inhaling the scent of soap that permeated its folds. It was huge on her; no doubt it must belong to Seifer. Quistis felt slightly embarrassed at having enjoyed the smell of it so deeply, but then she had always loved the crisp freshness of clean clothes and sheets. Quistis wondered if he had left it there deliberately. The kindness of the suspected gesture surprised her. Clearly time had changed them all.

The aged oaken door creaked as she opened it. Walking through a short corridor, she came to find the main living area deserted, but with a cheerful fire blazing away in the hearth. Quistis smiled at the sight of it, the dancing orange flames throwing out rays of warmth and comfort in to room. Quistis remembered how cold the living room could get in the depths of winter – flashback to herself as a child, bundled up in wool, pressed together with the other children in a desperate attempt at warmth as Matron prepared to light the fire early in the mornings, when it was still dark – and she was grateful for it. As to where Seifer was, that remained a mystery. Surely he wasn't outside in the blizzard that still whirled and roared at the windowpane? Quistis pulled the fleecy coat tightly around herself as she made her way to the window, her small white feet tiptoeing over the flagstones, looking more like a half-frozen fairy than a trained soldier.

The outside world was a swirl of white, the sea not visible at all, lending only its usual frothing roar to the high-pitched wail of the wind that clawed at the glass like a needy child. Quistis could barely see the steps that led down towards the beach. There was no sign of Seifer's tall frame amongst the whiteness and Quistis left the window, listening for the sounds of his heavy tread, or any sign of anyone else at all. The house was so silent and still that Quistis felt as if she had been marooned on some distant, icy planet, with only the sound of the weather and a creeping sense of foreboding for company. She wondered vaguely if the crashed ship was visible, but decided against going to look. Even if she could see it, what use would that make? Her body ached from the cold of the window, so Quistis pulled a chair close to the fire and sat, staring into the flickering ochre flames until her eyes felt drunk from their dancing.

A half hour passed and still there was no sight or sound of Seifer. Despite herself Quistis felt a strange tug of concern. Seifer may have been built like a tank, but the weather was fierce. She felt her jaw tighten at the thought of him outside.

There was a click in the main entranceway and Quistis spun from her place in the chair, all her attention in the direction of the sound. Then came a great yawning creak as the heavy doors opened, followed by a sound that sounded rather like a dog shaking itself. Quistis pulled herself up from the chair, and limping slightly, headed towards the main doors. There, stood in his grey greatcoat, was Seifer, shaking snow out of his hair and from his shoulders. Quistis blinked at him, taking in the sight of Seifer draped in snowflakes, making him look simultaneously old and young.

"Holy shit," said Seifer, seemingly speaking more to himself than Quistis. "It's goddamn freezing out there." He shook against the cold, pulling off the greatcoat to place it on a nearby peg, where it hung limply like some forgotten ghost, melting snow dripping on to the hard tiles.

"What were you doing out there?" said Quistis, baffled.

"Went to go inspect the crash site," said Seifer, in the same tone as someone would say that they had gone to get a sandwich.

"The crash site? In this weather?" Quistis shook her head. "Are you crazy? It's the worst blizzard I've seen in years. The craft could've waited, surely?" She stood with her hands on her hips, unconsciously adopting the pose of an instructor lecturing their wayward charge.

Seifer seemed to notice this and a half-smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. "You gonna write me up for it, huh, Instructor Trepe?"

Quistis flushed and awkwardly dropped her arms to her sides, where she felt even more off-kilter, before crossing them over her chest, glaring at him. Suddenly she was at a loss of what to say; being reminded of her brief time as an instructor always inspired an unpleasant frisson of pain. No doubt Seifer noticed this, she realised, but as they were seemingly stranded together in the orphanage till the weather cleared, she decided against spitting a barb back at him.

"Fire still going?" said Seifer, walking towards her with an intent of getting to the living room.

"Uh, yeah," said Quistis. She felt awkward now, an unsettled feeling resting in the pit of her stomach. "Look," she said, causing Seifer to pause and turn towards her. "Thank you. For … uh… saving me. Yesterday."

Seifer didn't respond, his face as passive as if it had been carved and placed on a plinth.

"I don't know what happened," Quistis said, a note of anger rising in her voice. "That's never happened to me before. I don't know why the thing just… stopped working." She fixed Seifer with her icy blue stare. Her cheeks were flush with frustration and annoyance. "I've never crashed _anything_ before."

Seifer blinked. "Sometimes stuff just fucks up," he said. "It happens."

"I know, but… still…"

Seifer took a deep breath and turned back towards the living room, striding across the floor before squatting down and prodding at the fire with a black iron poker. Quistis followed, sitting back in the chair with her legs pulled up to her chest. She touched gingerly at the bandage on her head.

"How's your head?" said Seifer, still looking into the flames.

"Hurts a little," Quistis said. "To be honest with you, everything kind of aches at the moment."

Seifer gave her a wan smile. "No shock there," he said. "You were lucky."

Quistis bristled. "No such thing as luck about it," she said. "I ejected out of the ship as soon as I knew what the situation was."

Seifer sighed. "I wasn't making a dig at you. I was just saying. You were lucky." He paused and looked at her, his green eyes looking strangely tired for once. "And you're welcome, by the way."

Quistis still felt her insides simmering at his comment, but was powerless against the fact that he had potentially saved her life. She felt lost for words and suddenly exhausted. Seifer looked at her. "You look pale," he said. "Well, paler than usual anyway."

Quistis gave him a small mocking smile. "Paler than usual, indeed." She did feel wobbly though, and put a hand to her head to see how warm she was. Her hand came away cool. She exhaled with relief; the last thing she needed was a fever on top of recovering from the crash. Her bones ached. A wave of fatigue rolled over her, despite her having so recently woken up. "How long did I sleep for?"

"About twelve hours," said Seifer, adding another log to the fire. "You must've needed it. One minute you were awake, the next…" He made a passed out face and pretended to snore. Quistis laughed, despite herself.

"I don't snore," she said.

"How would you know?" said Seifer. "You're not awake to hear it. Trust me, you snore."

Quistis laughed again, feeling blood rush to her face. "Well, that's the first I've heard of it."

"Whoever's been lying next to you has just been too polite to tell you," said Seifer. "If there's one thing I ain't it's polite." He got to his feet and peered at the smouldering log. "I guess you're probably hungry. I'll get us something." He looked down at Quistis, his face serious. "You look exhausted. Just stay here." And with that, he swept from the room and towards the kitchen, leaving Quistis curled up in the armchair, her head lolling against the arm-rest, trying to ignore the pain in her head.

Seifer busied himself in the kitchen, scrambling some eggs and grilling some bacon he had retrieved from the back of the freezer a few days ago. He'd never felt more grateful to pigs and hens in his life.

"Goddamn shitty snow," he grumbled to himself as he moved the eggs about the pan. He was raging about the crash – all those supplies! Food, drink, building equipment, all destroyed in a blink of an eye! He knew it wasn't Quistis's fault, as much as he would have delighted in ribbing her about her piloting abilities. If there was one thing that woman was, it was a damn fine pilot.

 _Must've been an electrical fault_ , he thought. _Such bad luck. It's gonna be another few weeks at least till I can get those materials re-ordered. Damn expensive too._

At least Quistis wasn't hurt. There was that one bonus.

Seifer had been surprised at his own sense of panic when he had found her. She had looked so small and fragile in the snow, her blood blooming scarlet flowers in the white. Thankfully it didn't look too serious – a cut on the head, some cuts and a patchwork of bruises on her body, but nothing that wouldn't heal by itself. Seifer had never considered himself a deeply caring person. With a few notable exceptions, people had never really interested him. It was something he didn't like to think about, his lack of attachment to all but a rare few. Matron, his Posse, Rinoa for a while, until that had evaporated like dew in sunlight before he had even realised it. So his concern over Quistis's health, despite the apparent lack of serious injury, startled and confused him.

He shook his head, as if to expel the unease. The eggs were done, the bacon crisp with golden edges. His stomach growled.

 _Worry about food now_ , he thought. _Food and the weather. It's bound to break in a few days, then you can send her back to Balamb._

The logical solution, as ever. So why did he feel a trepidation that he had never experienced before in his life curling in his gut?

 _No, there's no time for this. Food, weather, work, in that order. Get a hold of yourself, Almasy._

"I hope you like eggs," Seifer bellowed, as he left the kitchen.

* * *

The weather didn't break.

Seifer and Quistis spent a long day watching the weather like hawks, until the sun dipped below the horizon and cast the world into a velvet blackness that no lamplight inside the orphanage could touch. Neither of them wanted to venture outside with a torch to check if the snow was subsiding, but when they woke the next day to find yet more snow blanketing the ground, and yet more snow the day after that, it became apparent that they might be trapped in the orphanage for a while yet.

Seifer seemed like a caged animal, bored and pacing. He would pick up a book, flick through it for a while, before tossing it down in an apparent fit of mild bad temper, only to return to the window to glare at the dove-white sky, daring it to snow more and ruin his day, which the sky was only happy enough to oblige.

"Goddamnit," he snarled. "I'm going crazy in here! When this going to end? I've never seen a snow storm like this in my life."

"Is there enough food?" asked Quistis, feeling a tinge of worry. They had eaten well the past few days, simple things, chicken, eggs, more bacon, toasted bread, but she had no idea how full Seifer's stocks were or how long they would last.

"Oh yeah," said Seifer, dismissively. "There's plenty. You don't live here for months without stocking things up, just in case, you know? You wouldn't be the first time my delivery hasn't gone to plan, although admittedly this is by far the most dramatic way my stuff hasn't arrived."

Quistis smiled thinly. "I just wish there was a way to get a message out to Balamb," she said. "Maybe then they could send a ship instead. No way would anyone fly in this."

"I'll try the receiver again later," said Seifer. "Sometimes this place really feels like the end of the world." He shook his head and sat on the windowsill, one long leg perched on the edge. "All this nothing is driving me nuts."

"Just try to read or something," said Quistis lamely. She knew that a life of being trapped indoors reading was something of a nightmare for Seifer. He had always been full of energy, always striving towards action, always wanting his hands filled with a gunblade or a hammer or a drink. "Do you have any board games?" she said hopefully.

Seifer turned and gave her a look so withering that Quistis regretted mentioning anything.

"Do I look like I play board games to you? Who would I even play them with? The seagulls? My own ass?"

"It was just a suggestion," said Quistis. "Hyne knows I'm as bored as you are."

They were rapidly losing light. Another long evening of reading, bickering or staring at the fire loomed ahead of them. "Don't suppose you've got anything to drink?" Quistis asked.

Seifer glanced at her with surprise.

"Well, it might make the night go a bit faster. What else is there to do?"

Seifer threw his head back and laughed, a barking joyous sound, so at odds with his usual storming and glaring. "I can get on board with that," he said, his face transformed by a radiant smile.

Quistis felt a thump in her stomach at the sight of it and then cringed inwardly. Only someone made of stone would be able to ignore the raw beauty of the man. No matter how bad-tempered or arrogant or rude Seifer was more than capable of being, there was no doubting the overwhelming aura of his looks. Whenever he used to face off against Squall or any other male member of Garden prior to the war, no one had ever been able to deny that Seifer's appearance made whoever he was fighting look like nothing more than a callow boy, win or lose.

"Got any preference?" said Seifer. "And you sure you should be drinking after that war wound?" He pointed at her head. The bandage had been taken off earlier in the day, revealing a red but healing scar just at the base of her hairline.

Quistis touched the cut gently. "It's fine," she said. "I've had worse. I'll have wine if you've got any, but to be honest I'd drink turpentine if it would make the day a little more interesting."

Seifer laughed. "Now, turpentine I have in bulk, but I'll see what else I've got. And if you get shitty-ass drunk, that's your problem, not mine."

"You're such a gentleman, Seifer," said Quistis drily.

"You know me," he said, as he disappeared towards the stock room.

The light was almost gone by the time Seifer re-emerged armed with a bottle of whiskey and a pair of tumblers. Inside the glasses a few ice cubes clinked. Upon closer inspection Quistis realised that they weren't ice cubes at all, but tiny icicles. She laughed as she rolled them around the glass, before looking at Seifer incredulously.

"No ice, would you believe it," said Seifer, a grin quirking the corner of his mouth. "So I thought on my feet. Found the icicles hanging from the roof out the back door. Glad I did. Warm whiskey makes me wanna throw up in my mouth."

Quistis laughed. "Not bad at all," she said. She held out her glass and grinned. "Fill it up."

Seifer smiled, amused. "Sure thing," he said. "Never would've thought you for a whiskey drinker."

"I'm not really," she said. "But it's better than nothing."

Quistis watched as the amber liquid was poured into the glass tumbler, relishing the barely audible whisper of the whiskey against the ice, followed by the low grumble of the ice as it cracked. Quistis preferred wine, as a rule, but there was something enchanting and delightful about the thought of whiskey on the rocks, in the darkening room, with the fire crackling merrily, throwing gold and scarlet light towards her slim hands. Seifer's face was an aurora against the fire, his green eyes smouldering in his shadowed sockets. He filled his own glass, swirled the whiskey around, listening to the ice clink, raised it to his mouth and took a large sip.

"Oh yeah," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "That'll kill the boredom."

Quistis took a sip of her own, grimacing slightly, before enjoying the slow burn of the whiskey as it travelled down her throat, coming to rest in her stomach. It felt as if it was emitting a gentle glow as it sat there. Quistis looked out of the window, the light now deepest blue, with the snow swirling wildly, and felt strangely cosy. She pulled crossed her legs as she sat in front of the fire, enjoying the almost-painful level of heat. She glanced up at Seifer, who was peering at the contents of his glass with an expression of benign satisfaction.

It was odd, but Quistis felt strangely at home. With the warm buzz of the alcohol settling over her, the room had somehow transfigured itself from a snowy prison to a glowing sanctuary, free from the rigors of day to day life in the Garden, where all there was to do was read, eat, chat and drink in the company of a man who looked as if he had stepped down from a plinth in a museum, marble made flesh. She flushed at the thought.

 _I'm only human_ , she told herself. _He's good-looking, he's the only guy around for miles. What does it hurt to have a look? Any man would do the same if there was a beautiful woman in the room._ She shrugged internally and decided to enjoy the atmosphere.

Despite this, there was an anxious twinge in her stomach. The soldier in her said that this situation had the potential to get out of hand if the weather didn't break soon. Boredom was dangerous, there was no doubt about that.

 _Stop it_ , she told herself. _Just enjoy having some time off for once._

Quistis took a gulp of her drink, causing Seifer to raise an eyebrow.

"Enjoying it, huh?" he said.

"Well," she said. "You have to make your own fun."

"I hear that," said Seifer, reaching for the bottle to top up her glass.

* * *

It was a strange, joyful evening. The whiskey made them woozy and the room dissolved into glowing embers and laughter that reached the high ceilings. The only light came from the fire, throwing wild shadows dancing across the walls. The wind moaned outside. Seifer plugged in an old record player and after some hunting, found a decent album to put on. Raucous, dizzying jazz winged its way around the house, the notes bouncing off the stone walls.

"I remember this album!" cried Quistis, slightly unsteady from the drink. "Matron used to play this all the time!"

"Especially when the weather was terrible," said Seifer. "And we were all stuck indoors."

"You used to go out in it though," said Quistis. "I remember. One time you went out in a thunderstorm so loud that Zell hid under his bed and wouldn't come out till it was over."

Seifer laughed. "You came with me!" he said. "You had to be involved in everything!"

"You teased poor Zell for weeks," said Quistis. "You kept jumping out from behind him banging pots together, asking him if he was going to hide under the bed again."

Seifer flushed with the embarrassment of the memory. "Poor chicken-wuss," he said. "I gave him a hard time."

"You gave _everyone_ a hard time," teased Quistis.

"It was character-forming," said Seifer, sniggering into his glass, his face rosy with laughter. Quistis laughed along with him, and Seifer found it hard not to notice how beautiful she looked in the firelight, her hair loose around her delicate shoulders. He tried to shrug it off, reasoning that he'd been alone in Centra for months, with no sign of a woman for miles around. No wonder he couldn't help fixating on the only one in proximity to him. He took another sip of whiskey and tried to ignore the queasy flurry of butterflies that seemed to be gathering in his stomach against his will.

Quistis rolled on her back in front of the fire, exposing fine collarbones, her long eyelashes casting shadows like spiders on her cheeks. Seifer felt himself gripping the glass tighter and forced himself to look away from the graceful bones that dipped back inside her loose shirt like a magician's secret. It was his shirt, really. He'd offered it to her once the third day had passed and she had complained about starting to smell. Of course, she hadn't smelled, but he had offered it to her and laughed as it had swamped her slight frame. Now she wore it like a princess, a drunken one, admittedly, but still. It was _becoming_ on her. He smiled to himself – 'becoming' was a word Matron would have used.

"You know," she said, smiling. "I suppose it was character-forming, in a way. You were like our very own drill sergeant, even if we didn't appreciate it at the time."

"Or ever," said Seifer.

"Or ever," Quistis agreed, raising her glass slightly.

"I could've taught you a few things," Seifer grinned. "If you hadn't been so stubborn with that damn whip."

"There's nothing wrong with that damn whip, as you put it!"

"It's nothing on Hyperion," said Seifer, casting a dreamy glance over to his gunblade that sat propped against the wall in the corner.

"You kept it?" said Quistis. "Why?"

Seifer shrugged. "Once a soldier, always a soldier, I guess." A slightly awkward silence fell. Seifer hated to be reminded of losing. Quistis hated to be reminded of the war, of everything that had come between them. Despite her childhood crush on Squall, as a child she had meshed with Seifer as strongly as anyone else in the group. Their personalities were similar, although they never admitted it. Seifer may have been fierier, but they both had their stubborn streak, their unyielding sense of right and wrong, their own romantic dreams.

Quistis broke the silence. "So, where did you go, after here… but before Garden?" Seifer looked surprised at the question. "I mean, I went to a foster home, then Garden when I was 13. What about you?"

Seifer paused for a moment. "Foster home," he said. He took another drink of whiskey. "I was nine. It didn't work out."

Quistis blinked at him. "I always thought you went straight to Garden."

"No," he said. "I was twelve when I went. Almost thirteen."

"What happened?" said Quistis. She saw the consternation on his face. "I didn't get along with my foster parents. I think they expected someone sweeter. Instead they got me. All books and martial arts. Not what they wanted." She pulled a face. "It never felt like home."

"Yeah," said Seifer. "Garden always felt like home to me. Apart from here. Here always felt good to me, even knowing we were all orphans. Matron was a hell of a mother."

"She was," said Quistis. She saw the distant look on Seifer's face. "You don't have to say why it didn't work out at your foster home, if you don't want to. I didn't mean to pry."

Seifer took another gulp of whiskey. "No, it's fine," he said. A strange smile spread across his face, almost a grimace. "I'll tell ya." A breath. "You know how handsome I am, right?" They both laughed at that. "Well, foster parents and adoptive parents, they loved that shit. No one wants an ugly kid, right? Gotta complete that picture perfect family."

Quistis remembered Seifer as a boy. The same short blonde hair, the same bright emerald eyes, a face that was almost too pretty, like Squall's and Irvine's. Delicate features, but with a hard glare, the look of a child who knew on some level that they were alone in the world.

"I thought it was all going to work out," said Seifer, gaze drifting towards the past. "The mother seemed nice. The house was big, great garden. They sent me to a good school, even though I wasn't really interested in learning that stuff. I was always about weapons. I remember the first time I saw a gunblade in a film…" His eyes glazed over at the memory. "Anyway-" his face took on the strange fixed smile again. "The dad was something else. He liked me." His face became hard. "Oh, he liked me alright."

Quistis felt her blood run cold. "What do you mean, Seifer?"

He tried to laugh, in an attempt to lessen the terrible gravity of what he had just said. "You know what I mean, Quisty," he said. "He wasn't interested in me as as son."

"God, Seifer," said Quistis. She wanted to reach out and touch him. It felt as if she was seeing Seifer as a boy and a teenager in a whole new light. The betrayal of a child who just wanted to be loved. She felt as if she could be crushed by the weight of it, the sadness of it.

"He didn't… he never…"

"Oh, he tried. Once. Touched my face. I knew the way he did it was wrong. I wasn't a stupid kid. He tried… Well, I was strong for my age." Seifer took another drink of whiskey. "He didn't try again. His broken nose was a testament to that. After that I told my social worker that it wasn't working out and I went to Garden within a week."

A terrible silence fell.

"Oh, Seifer," said Quistis. "I'm so sorry."

Seifer tried to laugh. "Don't be sorry for me, Quisty. I broke that motherfucker's nose. He never had a chance." He paused. "Besides things ended up alright. I went to Garden. I lived my romantic dream. I saw things that most people will never see."

 _You idiot_ , Seifer told himself. _The drink's made you way too talkative. What are you gonna do next, bitchboy? Show her your fucking diary?_

Quistis edged closer to Seifer's chair and hesitantly, as if she was going to pet a tiger, moved her hand towards his.

 _Oh no,_ thought Seifer. _Not pity. I don't need fucking pity._

Quistis placed her tiny white hand on Seifer's large, tanned paw. The sensation of skin against skin was oddly exhilirating, like being plunged into cold water. Seifer felt his heart begin to thud in his chest. Quistis raised her eyes to his.

"I don't need your sympathy," said Seifer suddenly. "Or your pity."

"I don't pity you," said Quistis, blinking. "I'm sad for you." A pause. "And I'm glad you told me. It took guts."

"Guts?" said Seifer. "It's the opposite. I've just had too much to drink and was talking shit. It's nothing." That smile again, the smile that wasn't.

"It's not shit," said Quistis, suddenly serious. "You're brave, Seifer. Bravery isn't just a sword or a gun. It's different kinds of strength."

Seifer looked down at the pale hand against his. He looked into Quistis's glacier blue eyes and felt something in his chest contract. He felt his eyes burning and looked away, feeling a well of shame rise up in himself. Shame and anger. Her kindness made him sick. He went to stand up, but her grip on his hand was strong and she wouldn't let go.

"Seifer," she said. But she didn't know what else to say. He looked at her with such intensity that a lesser woman would have run a mile. Instead, she touched his face. She expected him to recoil, but instead he let her. She ran her hand across the smooth golden skin of his face, took in his hard, handsome mouth and his piercing eyes, usually so full of self-control and arrogance, now as soft as a fawn's.

Seifer felt his skin burn at Quistis's touch. He knew this was leading to a place where it shouldn't go. The combined mixture of the alcohol, the two of them alone and essentially stranded, and his confession had ignited something that it would be hard to stifle. He took a deep intake of breath and as if guided by someone else, felt his own arm rise, felt his hand cover hers on his own face. He saw her mouth open slightly and felt his stomach dip as if he was going over the peak of a rollercoaster.

 _Don't do it don't do it don't do it_

Powerless, yet full of a strength he didn't know he possessed anymore, he pulled Quistis towards him and pressed his lips against hers. Quistis gasped, shocked, but responded instantly, wrapping her arms around his back and allowing herself to be crushed into him.

They fell to the floor, kissing one another with the desperation so profound, it felt like drinking water after a lifetime in a desert. Quistis gasped as Seifer's mouth found her neck, glittering pleasure sparkling through her veins. She tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head, before he fell back on to her, kissing and grasping and touching, marvelling at his beautiful form, like some lonely Apollo come to earth to couple with an ice nymph.

Seifer paused and took her face in his hands, drinking in her raw, delicate beauty. His heart soared. He had been lonely, so lonely, for so long. He had gone years without exposing any vulnerable part of himself to anyone. It felt as if he had been chained in a dark cave for half of his life; kissing Quistis, tasting her skin and feeling her tongue on his, feeling her hands on his body, it was as if he was stood in the blazing sun, naked and unashamed, burned clean from the sheer delicious beauty of it.

As they pulled their clothes off, abandoning them in a heap, Seifer paused. "Are you sure?" he said.

Quistis paused, her skin prickling with anticipation. He was so beautiful, so sad. She wanted to envelop him in her arms, to bring a true smile to his taciturn features. She wanted to bring back the wild, shining boy she had known. Yet, he was who he was. No angel, not by any means. There was darkness there, and there probably always would be, but now, in the fire's ochre light, all she could see was his gentleness. All she could feel was the pause in his breath, his need to make sure that she was alright, that _this_ was alright. But how could it be alright? He was Seifer Almasy. He had tried to kill her and her friends. He had been a boy who wanted to watch the world burn.

She couldn't see that boy anymore. He had become something else.

"I'm sure," she said, barely a whisper.

She cried out then as he moved inside her, drowning in his shuddering gasp. He started to move, gently at first, the pair of them adjusting to this new experience, to bodies that were not their own but which they wanted to disappear into. Quistis pulled him towards her, hard, and she saw fire ignite in his eyes as he began to move harder and faster. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, lost in the rhythms, feeling her muscles turn to liquid gold as the pleasure grew more intense. Sweat beaded his brow and Seifer groaned as he thrust into her. Neither of them had expected this, this raw passion. She raked her nails down his back and he hissed with pain and delight.

Seifer picked her up, still inside her and moved her to the table. He lay her down on it and resumed thrusting, gasping with desire as Quistis cried out beneath him. They locked eyes, and instead of eyes he saw blue fire. How had he ever thought her an ice queen? She was an azure flame, writhing beneath him. He changed his rhythm, grinding himself against her as he thrust, and Quistis felt her body start to burn as her climax began to rise. She thanked Hyne that the house was empty, because it was impossible to be quiet. Seifer felt her body start to shudder as her climax began to peak, feeling his own orgasm start to rise like the crest of a wave. Her movements became frantic, before she gave a great cry, her body trembling powerlessly against the intensity of her climax. Seifer could contain himself no longer and came hard, breathless with pleasure and joy and the sheer overwhelming shock of it all.

He pulled her from the table and carried her bodily to his room. She was practically limp in his arms and he couldn't suppress a grin that he was responsible for it. He lay Quistis on the bed and brushed her sweaty hair from her brow. Her eyes opened slowly and she fixed him with a smile so beautiful and tired and drunk and sated that he laughed.

"Some ice queen," he said, grinning.

Quistis smirked, wordless and suddenly shy. She pulled the blankets over herself. "Shut up, Seifer," she said. "Climb in."

They didn't need any more words. Seifer sighed with pleasure and got into bed, pulling her close. Within minutes, whether from exertion or whiskey, they were both asleep, breathing softly in each other's arms.

Outside, the snow finally stopped.

* * *

 _I hope you all enjoyed! Sorry for the wait in chapters. R &R! _

_**Lux**_


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to FF8, Square or Alt-J. This is just for fun.

 **Chapter Three**

 _Realization grew on me  
As quickly as it takes your hand  
To warm the cool side of the pillow  
I'm there for you, be there for me  
I'll hum the song the soldiers sing  
As they march outside our window  
Hunger of the pine_

 _ **~ Hunger of the Pine – Alt-J**_

When Seifer's eyes eventually fluttered open, the first thing he realised was that the roar of the storm had ceased, replaced instead by a chill breeze that pawed gently at the windows like a hungry cat. The second thing he noticed was the disordered blonde head that lay sleeping next to him and the body attached to it breathing softly. The movement of her lungs inhaling and exhaling raised the blanket slightly with each breath and although Seifer's head felt fuzzy and slightly sore from drinking the night before, a strange sense of satisfaction interlaced with a delicate panic settled over him like a dusting of pollen on a heady summer's day in the fields surrounding the orphanage. Images from last night raced through his head like a film in fast motion – Quistis's beautiful face suffused with lust, his own large hands picking her up, running one palm down her long pale flank, every memory imbued with the rich golden fall of lamplight and the smoky taste of whiskey. He felt lightheaded and oddly happy. Seifer raised a hand and brushed aside a lock of long, golden hair to reveal a delicate seashell ear and Quistis's long, beautiful neck. It was all he could do to not sigh at the sight of it.

Quistis stirred and sleepily turned to look into the unreadable green eyes that peered down at her. Seifer felt a smile quirk the corners of his mouth, and couldn't help but flush slightly with embarrassment at being caught admiring her.

"Hey," he said.

Quistis smiled, looking a touch shy and unnerved. "Hey yourself," she said, her voice husky from the hangover that showed itself through the delicate darkness under her eyes.

Neither of them seemed to know what to say. How long had it been since either of them had taken someone to bed? Months? Longer? It was hard to say. Now here they were confronted with one another, coupled with the ghost of the night before that hovered over them, grinning lasciviously.

Quistis laughed then, breaking the silence with the beauty of a high bell ringing into a vacant blue sky. Seifer paused for a moment, confused, then laughed too. They bent their heads towards one another and haltingly kissed, still giggling at themselves, at the situation.

"Sorry for my morning breath," said Quistis, still smiling.

"It's ok, I forgive you," said Seifer, a grin transforming his austere features into something boyish and joyful.

"Oh, you forgive me? How magnanimous of you!"

"It's too early for words that long," said Seifer, silencing Quistis with a kiss.

She broke it to look out the window. "The snow," she said. "It's stopped, finally."

"Uh huh."

Quistis sat up straight, her blonde hair falling down her back, disordered and lovely. She pushed the curtain fully back to take in the still, silent landscape. It seemed more a painting than real life, the only movement being the gentle breeze that made the tree branches shiver.

Seifer felt the words catch in his throat but forced them out. "The radio should be up and running now," he said. "You can contact Garden, tell them about the crash."

 _Best not tell them about the rest though_ , he thought. _I don't think that'd do your popularity any good._

Quistis gave him a brief, pointed look that he didn't know how to interpret. Suddenly his mouth felt dry and his hands awkward. "Do, uh, do you want any breakfast?" he said, cringing inwardly at himself.

The pointed look left her pale face and a gentle smile replaced it. "Sure," she said. "Not throwing me out so soon, huh?"

Seifer laughed and felt himself blush. "No, no," he said, shaking his head. "I just thought…"

"You thought what?"

 _That you'd think this was a mistake and run out the door and never come back._

"Nothing, nothing. Toast and coffee good?"

Quistis nodded, her face inscrutable. "Sounds good," she said. "My head is pounding. That whiskey is rocket fuel." She laughed and Seifer felt the awkwardness leave the room. He pulled on his trousers and a shirt, turning his back to her, feeling suddenly shy. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her watching him.

"Hey, creeper," he said, jokingly.

Quistis said nothing, but smiled at him. Damn her, the Ice Queen, as hard to interpret as ever!

"Not creeping," she said silkily. "Just looking."

He had nothing to say to that and left the room, heading swiftly towards the kitchen, face burning and heart hammering. The stone flag floor was icy against his feet and he relished it, wishing that that cold would rush up his legs and into his face. Seifer shook his head at himself.

 _It's just one night, grow up,_ an inner voice hissed. _Get a grip on yourself._

* * *

Alone now, Quistis turned her attention to the turmoil that rolled and rocked in her stomach. It had been impossible to tear her gaze away from Seifer's beautiful back, his golden skin, the corded muscle at his shoulders. She felt sick. It was like being a teenage girl.

 _Get a grip on yourself, Quistis,_ she told herself furiously. _It was one night. One stupid night caused by too much alcohol and not enough common sense and boredom from being trapped in this godforsaken place in a damn storm. You're not fourteen. You're a grown woman mooning over someone who tried to kill you and everyone you know._

What a night though. She couldn't deny that. Maybe it had been the alcohol that had stripped them of their inhibitions, but Hyne, what a lay Seifer was. Naturally it helped that he looked like a young god, but no one had ever touched her like that. No one had ever been so invested in her own pleasure like that. No one had been as strong and as gentle and as beautiful.

Quistis felt her stomach roll again. It was as if she had drunk the finest wine and knew now that she would never have it again.

Soon she would return to Garden. Seifer would remain here, unless he got bored and moved on to Hyne knows where. He didn't seem the type to stay in contact or open himself up to something real. Quistis reflected that he had known romance once, with Rinoa ( _of course_ , hissed a spiteful voice in the back of her head) and that had ended with him almost dying for her, then almost killing her, then having her swept away by Squall.

Hardly a recipe for a man who would open himself up to something real again…

Quistis sighed and glanced out the window again, taking in the bleak landscape. It would be best to be cold about this, she surmised. Enjoy what happened, enjoy even today with him, contact Garden, leave, put it behind her. There was no future here. It was a one-night stand – something to be enjoyed as a brief memory, not painfully dissected.

She felt something like hurt bloom in her chest. Seifer had rescued her from the crash, had taken care of her, fed her, clothed her even, and treated her as gently as he was capable of, which turned out to be very gentle indeed, much to her complete surprise. Last night had been beautiful and she had wanted it as much as he had appeared to. Against her better judgement, against the looming spectre of the past, she liked him. She liked him very much.

Quistis bit her lip, conflict rising within her like storm clouds in a blackened sky.

"Stop it," she whispered to herself. "You're a soldier. Not some airhead. Get a hold of yourself."

Her mind's eye flashed back to last night, unbidden. Seifer's face over hers, his green eyes flashing like fire-lit emeralds, the unbearably tender way he'd brushed an escaped tendril of hair from her face before leaning in to kiss her, his body tensed against hers. Quistis felt adrenaline flood her stomach.

Another sigh.

She pushed the memory down, grabbed her clothes and began to dress, feeling sore inside and out. She marched towards the radio, turned the dials and heard it come online. She paused, breathed in, breathed out, and contacted Garden.

When someone answered the other end, she knew then what she must do, and a coldness settled over her as gently as morning fog, comforting in its chill.

* * *

Seifer felt his stomach do an odd little flip when Quistis limped into the kitchen. The coffee was ready and steaming on the table, sending plumes of steam dancing into the air like skirts of tulle. The toast was almost ready, the bread slowly transforming from white to golden brown. The salted butter waited in its dish to be spread and melted.

Quistis had tied her hair into a hurred ponytail and her face was as pale and watchful as a little boy's. Seifer swallowed at the sight of her, taken aback at the odd strength of feeling that coursed through him at the sight of her, so delicate and vulnerable, but strong as steel underneath that white skin. It seemed ridiculous to him that one drunken night was having such an effect on him. Perhaps it would lessen when she left. Maybe that was for the best.

He suppressed a grunt at the thought and rearranged his face into an indifferent sort of grin.

"Coffee's ready," he said, with a jerked incline of his head. "Toast's almost done. Man, this hangover is rough."

Quistis nodded. "I've felt better," she conceded. "Straight whiskey is never a good idea."

"True enough," said Seifer, blanching against himself at the coldness of her words. He removed the toast from the grill and buttered a pile, before leaving it on a plate in the middle of the table for them both to pick at.

"You managed to speak to Garden?" he said, practicing indifference as he inhaled a slice of toast.

Quistis nodded. "Yes, just now," she said. "They'd been wondering what the hell happened to me. Apparently the storm was enormous – power down from Centra to Galbadia. They weren't able to contact anywhere apart from Balamb Town. They'd never seen a storm like it. No one was even able to fly in it – it's a wonder I survived at all, when you think about it."

"Weird," said Seifer. "Wonder where it came from."

"One of those freak occurrences, I guess," said Quistis with an elegant shrug. "Either way, they were shocked about the crash, but glad I'm alright." She paused. "They're sending out a craft straight away with the supplies you needed, and to bring me back to Garden."

Seifer nodded. "That's good," he said. "I'll be glad to get back to work. Cabin fever, y'know?"

"Oh, yeah," said Quistis.

Silence descended upon them as they drank their coffee and ate the remaining toast.

"Any idea how long they'll be?" said Seifer.

"A few hours," said Quistis. "They're sending Ragnarok. That thing flies like the wind."

Seifer nodded but didn't say anything. Eventually he cleared his throat and looked directly at her, his cheeks colouring slightly.

"It was, uh, it was good having you here," he said. "Just wanted you to know. Wasn't the nightmare I expected it to be." He gave her a wolfish smile. "Was good to have a bit of company for once. I mean, the seagulls are good for noise, but not much use for conversation, y'know?"

Quistis smiled back, one eyebrow raised. "Well, thank you, Seifer," she said. She suddenly felt like she was an instructor again, dealing with an arrogant young student, not sitting across from a man who she'd shared her body with mere hours ago. She took a deep breath and her expression turned serious. "Thank you though," she said. "For helping me. I owe you one."

The wolfish look left Seifer's face and was replaced by something serious and austere. "You're welcome. And you don't owe me." A pause. "I was happy to do it."

Quistis opened her mouth to say something, but no words came. Her chest clenched painfully, looking at Seifer's closed face, remembering everything, but trying her hardest not to.

A part of her wanted more than anything for him to take her hand and ask her to stay. A ridiculous thought. An impossibility. She could feel her heartbeat in her ears.

It was too painful to sit here with him, wanting him, all over one stupid night. She thanked him for breakfast and retreated from the kitchen, using the excuse of locating her things before Ragnarok arrived.

Seifer watched her go, one hand clenched around the coffee cup, knuckles turning white. A feeling he couldn't place rose up in him, before dissipating like steam into the air. Suddenly he felt as old as the stone in the walls of the orphanage, and as solid and stuck.

He sighed, drank the dregs of the coffee, looked out the window at the sea. It roared back at him as it always did, and for this small consistency, Seifer felt thankful, but no better.

* * *

Ragnarok's engines roared as it waited to take off. A group of SeeDs had arrived, Zell along with them, to remove the debris of Quistis's crash and deliver the original order of building materials and food that had been destroyed. Zell had fussed over Quistis in a way that had made Seifer's eyes narrow briefly, but beyond that he showed no more emotion that if a small contingency of ants had marched across the steps outside.

Zell said little to Seifer, beyond thanking him for making sure Quistis was alright. Seifer had restrained himself from mocking the younger man, although he was surprised to see a new strength in Zell's demeanour. He doubted that Zell could be as easily provoked as in the past, although a small part of him desperately wanted to find out.

Finally, the SeeDs returned to the airship, as efficient as always, and Seifer found himself alone with Quistis. Zell was in the cockpit of Ragnarok, priming her for flight and there was no one else around.

"So," said Quistis, looking awkward and shy.

"So," said Seifer, mirroring her without realising.

"I, uh, I just…" Quistis floundered. She steeled herself and forced herself to look Seifer right in the eyes. "Thank you, Seifer. For everything. I mean it."

Seifer gave a shrug. "It was nothing."

"It wasn't nothing," said Quistis, perhaps too fiercely. "It wasn't."

Seifer gazed back at her pale eyes, feeling strange and vulnerable and embarrassed. There were not emotions he was used to experiencing. He opened his mouth to speak, but found himself wordless. In his mind's eye, all he could see was her beautiful face leaning in to his in a moment of passion. He recalled her laughing during the night before, before everything changed, _before everything went wrong_ , said the spiteful inner voice.

"It's fine," he said, trying to force some coldness into his voice. "You'd better get going."

Quistis looked searchingly at him. Seifer felt his stomach contract with the need to do or say something, anything.

"Alright," she said softly. "Alright."

The hum of the engines felt infuriatingly loud. Seifer gritted his teeth and gave a grunt of annoyance. Quistis turned and walked away from him. He reached out and caught her arm, before even realising he'd done it, but by the time he had it was too late to let go and he pulled her to him, feeling a fire ignite in his belly.

"Seifer, what-" Quistis spluttered, her face a picture of shock.

"It wasn't nothing," he growled at her. "It wasn't."

He pulled her to him and kissed her hard, one arm wrapped around her waist, his other hand cupping her face. Quistis melted into him, letting him devour her, feeling elated, but confused; joyful and afraid.

When they finally pulled apart, there were no words. Perhaps there was nothing left to say.

Quistis touched his face gently, took in the fierce, pained expression that was etched into Seifer's handsome features. She smiled sadly at him and pulled away, walking backwards to the entrance of Ragnarok. She was still looking at him when the doors slid shut and she found herself alone in the elevator of the ship. She wanted to cry and she didn't know why. Quistis took a deep, steadying breath and prayed no one had seen what had just happened, not just because she didn't welcome the notion of questions, but because she wanted to keep the memory of it for herself, as perfectly preserved as a pearl in an oyster's shell at the bottom of the sea.

* * *

Seifer watched the ship take off. Quistis wasn't at the window of the cockpit. He didn't expect her to be. His heart was still thudding wildly in his chest and he could still taste the strange sweetness of her on his tongue.

A fury he hadn't experienced in years roared back to life in him, a sense of loss that yawned as hugely as a crater opened up in his chest and as the airship disappeared from view, Seifer had never felt more alone, or more alive. The impotence of the sensation was as infuriating as it was breathless.

Left looking at an empty sky in a field white with snow, Seifer steeled himself and walked back to the orphanage. He didn't look back.

* * *

 _Hi everyone, sorry that it took me so long to update this! Thank you for your reviews, I really appreciate them. Hopefully the next update will come along a bit sooner than this one._

 _~ Lux_


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